Hexes and Holly: A Paranormal Cozy Mystery Holiday Anthology

by Tegan Maher

  Evil may have its day, but it never prevails. And when you’ve made as many enemies as Victoria McMahon, karma will always come calling.

  1

  One of the best things about living on a paranormal island is that it always snows around Christmas. Fifty weeks out of the year, Mystic Key offers up the perfect island weather with warm days, late sunsets, and the perfect ocean breeze. But the morning of December twelfth arrives with a flurry of picture-perfect snowflakes that don’t stop until midnight on December twenty-sixth. It had been my favorite two weeks of the whole year when I was a kid. Finally, being back home in Mystic Key for the first time in over fifteen years, it was easy to remember why I’d loved it so much.

  The entire town was bubbling over with cheer, a soft layer of white snow made everything feel clean and bright, and the lights and decorations were a reminder that Christmas was just around the corner. The level of excitement over a holiday had never been that way in the human world. Sure, some folks were all in but not everyone, and definitely not like the residents of Mystic Key.

  The Christmas festival downtown was rivaled only by the Halloween festival, and I couldn’t wait to take my daughter, Ember, to her very first Mystic Key Christmas Celebration. She’d spent the first fifteen years of her life in the human world thinking she was just a regular little girl, completely unaware that she was a witch that hadn’t yet come into her powers. I’d been in awe of how well she’d adjusted to a place like Mystic Key, where monsters are free to roam, and magic is used frivolously. She had quickly accepted it at her new home, though, and there we were, just a couple of short months later, off to our very first Mystic Key Christmas Celebration together.

  Well, as soon as she settled on the right shoes and quit primping in front of the mirror. I suspected a boy was to blame for the extra attention she was suddenly giving to the details of her appearance, but she hadn’t mentioned any boy yet, and I hadn’t asked. I wanted to. Desperately. But one thing I remembered from my time as a teenage girl with a sister who had also been a teenage girl, was that prying only firms up the seal. If you wanted to get a teenage girl to spill, you just had to wait. Girls, especially those of the adolescent variety, are just itching to reveal whatever information they’ve got. It doesn’t matter if it’s juicy gossip or idle chatter—they can’t hold it in for long. All you have to do is bide your time until the moment comes when they’re so full of words that the dam bursts wide open without so much as a nudge.

  I was still waiting for that moment and fighting the urge to nudge more often than I would’ve liked. It had been particularly challenging as I stood on my front porch waiting for her to join me so we could meet the rest of the family down at the festival, doing nothing but watching the large white flakes as they fell to help fortify the white blanket of snow that covered the cemetery owned by my family. She was holding us up over some boy, and I didn’t even have so much as a name. I was starting to reconsider my own sage advice on the delicate nature of conversing with teen girls because the boredom was making me go cross-eyed when the cop had shown up.

  Moments later, I still stood on my front porch, though now I was clutching my purse in one hand and a melting snowball in the other. The remaining bit of snow from the first snowball I’d thrown glided down the front of his policeman’s cap and slid from the brim, leaving a wet spot on the front of his jacket.

  He narrowed his eyes at me, unflinching, and rested his gloved hands on his duty belt. “Be careful now, Ms. Graves.”

  “Or what? You’re going to arrest me?” I scoffed, holding out my palm and tossing the snowball in the air a few times.

  “If I have to.” His tone was so matter-of-fact, so cold, that for a second, I almost believed him.

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to stop me.

  “Assaulting a police officer is a serious crime, ma’am.”

  “Assaulting?” I choked out through laughter. “You’re joking, right?”

  He shook his head slowly, keeping his mouth set in a hard line.

  “You’re telling me that throwing snowballs is considered assault? Is that what you’re saying?” I was skeptical but not entirely sure whether he was being truthful or lying his butt off.

  “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.” He took a step forward with his hands still on his hips, but his face was completely unreadable. His casual posture didn’t match his closed-up expression or his level tone, though, and it was all the clue I needed.

  “Now, ma’am. I’m going to have to ask you to drop the weapon.” He inclined his head toward the snowball still melting in my hand.

  I looked down at what was left of it and decided that it would have to do.

  “Okay, fine. I’ll drop it, officer.” I drew my arm back as quickly as I could, but Matt was already bending down and scooping up a handful of snow for his counter attack. I pitched my snowball at him, nailing him in the shoulder hard enough that it sent the snow splattering across his face in an icy explosion. It bought me just enough time to make a mad dash to my car.

  I wasn’t interested in getting soaked having a snowball fight with my twin brother. I’d only been interested in nailing him at least once or twice.

  I narrowly avoided justice as his snowball erupted against my car window just as the door clicked closed.

  “Shayla Dawn Graves, don’t make me call for backup!” He was already standing just outside my driver’s side door, and he sounded eerily like our father when he used my full name in that warning tone of his.

  “Don’t make me call for backup,” I shouted back through the closed window as I started up the car. “You can get every cop in this town here, but it won’t do you any good. You may have a police force, but I have an Aunt Hattie.”

  “Hey, she’s my aunt too.” His tone was no longer firm and commanding but pouty and whiny. Now that was the twin brother I knew.

  “What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked, rolling down my window just enough that I could see him. I didn’t trust him enough to roll it down all the way or get out of the car.

  “Paige asked me to run by and grab another coat for MJ. Guess he got sick. Poor kid overdid it on sugarplum candy and Harold’s hot chocolate.”

  “That yeti does know how to make a mean mug of hot cocoa,” I interjected.

  “He does. Unfortunately, two mugs of it are now all over MJ’s coat.”

  I cringed both out of sympathy for my eight-year-old nephew and my sister-in-law.

  “I know it’s gross. Sorry. Anyway, he overdid it and then went a little too hard at the playground. That is what has led to the current need for a new jacket.”

  “Poor little guy,” I said with a frown. “So you’re off work then or not?”

  He shook his head and let out a deep sigh. “Nah, I still have to work the festival. Well, at least for a few hours until someone else I can trust to put in charge shows up. A lot of my guys are working the minotaur fighting sting, so I’m a little short-staffed at the moment.”

  It had recently come to the Mystic Key Police Department’s attention that illegal gambling was running rampant on our little island. Apparently, a fighting ring featuring minotaurs had blown up. Since we didn’t have anything like horse or greyhound races or sports teams to wager on, the residents with an urge to wager a bet had flocked to the underground arena.

  “Honestly, I don’t see why you won’t just let them fight,” I said, “If a bunch of dumb guys want to get together and beat the crap out of each other, I say you let them. No one’s getting hurt except for the idiots that signed up for it.”

  “It’s not that simple, Shay. Organized underground gambling is illegal whether the minotaurs are willing participants or not. It’s incredibly dangerous too. In fact, statistically speaking–”

  “All right, all right. I concede.” I held my hands up in defeat. “Please don’t put to sleep with facts that I will never in my life need to know.” I placed my hands in front of the heater vents on either side of the s
teering wheel and glanced toward the front door.

  Matt tracked my gaze and turned his head to look back over his shoulder.

  “Waiting on Ember?”

  “Yeah, any minute now, she should be finishing up her third round of trying on every pair of shoes she owns. One more trip to stare at herself in the bathroom mirror, and then she should be ready to go.”

  Matt smirked and lowered his gaze as he gave a slow shake of his head.

  I knew what that meant.

  “What?” I challenged, already feeling defensive.

  “Oh, nothing.” He waved me off, the grin on his face widening as a soft chuckle escaped him.

  “Don’t make me get out of this car, Matt,” I warned.

  “Oh, it’s nothing. Really. Just remembering what it was like when you were Ember’s age. Hogging the bathroom for hours and leaving it smelling like an explosion of vanilla body spray and burnt hair.”

  “Burnt hair?” I wrinkled my nose.

  “yeah, from that twirly thing you and Kiki used to use.” He twisted his empty fist next to the side of his head to demonstrate.

  “Curling iron?” I asked in disbelief. “Matt, you’ve been married for ten years, and you grew up with two sisters. You honestly don’t know that it’s called a curling iron?”

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged, noncommittal. “Hell, I don’t know, Shay. You all have too many different beauty contraptions. Curling things and straightening things, stuff that blows hot air all over your head, little devices that are like electric toothbrushes for your face. I can’t keep track, but look, whatever it was called, that thing you two would use made the whole bathroom smell like burnt hair.”

  “Yeah, it probably did. It wasn’t exactly top of the line or anything.” I laughed, remembering the days when my younger sister Kiki and I would scrunch together in our shared bathroom, one of us in front of the mirror and the other perched on a small section of counter space, chatting away as we took turns getting ready.

  I heard the front door slam closed, and seconds later, Ember came bounding into view, her fiery red hair flowing behind her. She smiled at Matt and offered him a quick wave as she made her way around the front of the car.

  “Well, aren’t you looking exceptionally lovely this evening.” Matt grinned over the top of the car at Ember.

  She climbed inside and pulled the door closed behind her, clicking her seatbelt into place before she leaned over and looked out my window to address her uncle. “Thank you for the compliment, but this is how I always look, Uncle Matt.”

  I spotted a hint of mischief twinkling in Matt’s eye, and I shot him a pointed look before he had a chance to say anything dumb. Like most males, my brother tended to tease and crack jokes that he thought were harmless, only to quickly discover that he’d actually stuck his foot in his mouth for the millionth time.

  The last thing we needed was for Matt to make an innocent joke about Ember’s sweaty, dirt-stained, post soccer practice look, or her Saturday morning ensemble that usually consisted of unruly hair, obnoxious patterned pajama pants, a cartoon character t-shirt, and fuzzy slippers.

  Matt must’ve read the look on my face because his impish grinned softened as his gaze slid back to my daughter. “You know… you’re right, Ember. You always look lovely.”

  She smiled back at him, and just as that warm, affectionate feeling started to well in my chest, Matt jabbed his thumb in my direction.

  “Now, your mom, on the other hand—”

  I smacked his shoulder, and he drew back with an exaggerated yelp. He grabbed his arm as if I’d hurt him, but he couldn’t hide the grin on his face as Ember giggled next to me.

  “All right, we’re leaving,” I told him with an eye roll. “I’m sure we’ll see you down there.”

  “See ya.” He lifted his arm in a wave as he turned to walk back to his car.

  I cast a glance at Ember out of the corner of my eye as I pulled my car from the driveway, being careful to say the No Slick Snow spell first. It was the witch’s version of snow tires, chains, or four-wheel drives.

  “Are you looking forward to the festival?” I asked, noticing that she was texting someone on her cell phone.

  “Mmhm.” She continued typing, and I seriously considered whether or not she’d heard my question.

  “Well, I really think you’ll love it. Christmas in Mystic Key is magical. And I mean that literally.”

  She responded with the sound of her nails tapping against her cell phone screen. I looked over and tried to make out the name across the top of her ongoing message exchange. Maybe it was the boy she liked. The one whose name I was dying to know.

  Much of Shadow Lane was still gravel, and the car was bouncing a little too much for me to pull the name into focus. I slowed down, this time leaning over just a bit to get a better angle. I had taken my eyes off the road for too long, but since we were the only people that should be that far down the lane, I wasn’t overly concerned about a car accident.

  The letter C had just come into focus when Ember shrieked, causing me to slam on the brakes. I looked out the windshield and saw what had horrified Ember so terribly. Standing in the middle of the front of my car was a man with a shocked expression on his face.

  I rolled down my window and leaned out. “I’m so sorry, Obie! I swear I didn’t see you!”

  Obie, one of my favorite regularly visiting spirits, simply smiled and took a few steps backward until my car was no longer concealing the lower half of his body.

  “No worries, Shay. So, where are you off to in such a hurry?” He asked, waving at Ember through the windshield.

  “The Christmas festival,” I said, hoping the reminder that it was the holiday season wouldn’t upset him too much.

  “I’m just headed down there myself,” he beamed. “Been looking forward to it for months, in fact.”

  “That’s great, Obie. Maybe we’ll see you there,” I said.

  He nodded and threw Ember a parting wave.

  I leaned back into the car and started to roll the window up when he turned back around with a furrowed brow. “You know, there was something I wanted to tell you. I can specifically remember saying to myself not to forget to tell you…”

  I waited for him to continue.

  After a beat, he threw his arms up in the air in exasperation. “but I forgot!”

  “It’s okay, Obie. If you think of it again, just let me know, okay?”

  He nodded, but the confused look on his face was still there. “It was something important. I’m pretty sure of it. Goddesses, why can’t I remember?” He mumbled to himself as he started across the graveyard toward town.

  I sat back in my seat and took a deep breath.

  “That was weird,” Ember finally broke the silence.

  I chuckled and started back down the road. “It was. Let’s just hope it’s not some kind of omen or something.”

  2

  “Now, like I was saying, I demand a refund.” The voice was all too familiar in both its pitch and steady tone.

  I winced and exchanged a look with Ember. We had just secured two cups of hot cocoa and began our journey down Main Street, surrounded by glittering lights and traditional Christmas colors for as far as the eye could see. The smell of sweet treats and fresh pine mingled in the air to create the epitome of what Christmas should smell like.

  I eyed the booth where I’d heard Aunt Hattie’s voice come from. She was about halfway down the cluster of booths selling all varieties of Christmas goodies and had positioned herself in front of a stand that I recognized even after all my years away from Mystic Key.

  Brunhilda Dunkel had been selling her confections at the Mystic Key Christmas Festival since I was still small enough to hitch a ride on my dad’s shoulders. It wasn’t odd to see her there still selling her special cookies and pastries. It was, however, odd to see that not a single thing had changed. The banner covered in glitter still hung behind her. The same wooden, hand-painted signs rest
ed in front of each type of cookie to allow for easy identification for customers. And Brunhilda herself still wore her white and silver hair swept up in a bun, and the same Christmas sweater I’d seen her in every holiday season of my childhood. It was like stepping back in time as I watched her peer over the top of her glasses at my Aunt Hattie.

  “You can’t have a refund since you ate the whole bag, Hattie Graves.” Brunhilda scolded as she folded her arms over her chest.

  “The hell I can’t!” Aunt Hattie’s volume eked just into causing-a-scene territory, and I knew that slipping past and enjoying the festival with Ember wasn’t going to happen. We’d have to diffuse the situation with Aunt Hattie first. Not because she needed our help—there was a good chance she was completely wrong in the given situation—and not because I thought Brunhilda Dunkel couldn’t handle herself, but because everyone knew we were related, and if Aunt Hattie caused a scene, then we’d be getting the side-eye all night.

  I looped my arm through Ember’s and started in Aunt Hattie’s direction when I was suddenly jerked back.

  Ember hadn’t moved and she averted gaze, chewing nervously on her lower lip.

  “Uh… sorry, Mom, but I see some friends over there. Would it be okay if I went and said hi?”

  “Went and said hi or ditched me to hang out with your friends for the rest of the night?” I asked.

  She fidgeted with the cuffs of her coat sleeves, and her eyebrows lifted with the question she didn’t want to ask.

  “Yes, it’s fine.” I smiled and flicked a red curl from her shoulder. “Go. Ditch your lame old mom and have fun. Text or call if you need me, though. Otherwise, meet me by the hot cocoa stand with a huge yeti behind the counter in exactly two hours. Got it?”

  “Really?” Her face lit up, and she popped up on her toes in excitement.